Monster Hunters Extraordinaire
by mugglesftw
Summary: The world beyond Hogwarts if full of monsters; creatures so powerful and dangerous that even your average witch or wizard cannot hope to oppose them. That is why none other than Gilderoy Lockhart and his companions must roam the world, seeking to find fame, glory, and a good story.
1. Chapter 1

_This document beta'd by the discerning Reldern_

 **WARNING: This story is very AU, as will be immediately obvious to anyone with any sense at all. If you want to know more about the setting, you could read Like a Red Headed Stepchild (also by me) and figure out why. Or, you could just read this story and enjoy the "mystery" of why Lockhart is behaving the way he is.**

 **Note that this is not a crack-fic like Red Head is. This is more Indiana Jones meets The Dresden Files with Gilderoy Lockhart as the star.**

 **-mugglesftw**

 _ **Monster Hunters Extraordinaire:**_ _**The Life and Times of GIlderoy Lockhart and his Companions**_

By Edward Lupin

Edited by Hermione Weasley

Published by Quibbler News Group

 _Forward by the Remus Lupin_

 _Many have heard of the legendary monster hunter, educator, writer, and philanthropist Gilderoy Lockhart, but few know the man in truth. The tales of his exploits have of course been collected in the various works by none other than the man himself, and of course in various publications chronicling his escapades as well. At the time, few knew the truth of his story. A the story of a man who the man born as Gilderoy Lockhart was, and who, in time, he would become. Of the dramatic death and rebirth of Lockhart the Man that centered on his time as a Hogwarts professor._

 _It was during this time that I begin to know Lockhart, as he passed on his wisdom in teaching at Hogwarts (and in dealing with the infamous Weasley clan). As time went on, we began to exchange letters concerning the various magical creatures of the world. I would come to author somewhat less fictionalized books regarding the events of Lockhart's life, and I began to know the man behind the public facade. He entrusted me with his deepest, darkest secret. Those letters eventually fell into the hands of my son, who set about with the task of writing the true history of Lockhart, in the form he would most have approved of: a highly fictionalized and dramatized novel, that covers his adventures, retirement, and those who would carry on his legacy._

 _I think he would be proud._

 **Chapter 1: Banishing the Basilisk**

Deep in the highlands of Scotland, the redoubtable halls of Hogwarts echoed with the sounds of a distant train whistle that faded into the distance. House elves appeared, running about and picking up the various forgotten items of the departed students, and setting out a small banquet for the exhausted staff. Through the doors of the Great Hall stumped a man with a stiff leg, leaning on a cane, his crimson lined cloak billowing dramatically behind him. He flashed a smile at the head table, where an exhausted deputy headmistress was already slumped with a glass of firewhiskey.

"Ah, Minerva! Celebrating the departure of the students already?" Gilderoy Lockhart said, hobbling forward and easing himself into a chair. A house elf hurried forward with a stool, and Lockhart groaned as he propped his injured leg upon it.

"Just trying to recuperate," Minerva McGonagall said, straightening up a bit to study Lockhart. "I do have to thank you again, Gilderoy. Why, if you hadn't gone into the Chamber with the Weasleys, I don't know what would have happened to poor Ms. Lovegood."

Twirling his pencil thin blond mustache, Lockhart shrugged. "Well, that is what I am known for, isn't it? I must say, Banishing a Basilisk was one of the more challenging tasks I have been given, but I accomplished it. With the aide of the students, of course. That young Hermione Granger was most helpful, along with the rest of the Weasley clan of course. I think we can expect great things from them."

"Great headaches more like," McGonagal growsed, pouring a glass of whiskey for Lockhart and refilling her own.

Before long the rest of the staff trickled in, along with a scruffy looking man that Professor Dumbledore brought with him.

"Ah, GIlderoy. Still set on departing for Central America are you?" the old headmaster asked.

Lockhart nodded. "Indeed. It has been a most pleasant year here at Hogwarts. Passing on my skills, filling young minds with knowledge. But alas, after facing that beautiful creature, the Supreme Danger Noodle, I once more hear the siren call of adventure. There are rumors of a nest of chupacabras causing havoc in Sonora, Mexico. I aim to put a stop to that at once."

"Well, that is a shame. You have been a tremendous asset for this entire school, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said.

Professor Snape, for his part, muttered "Good riddance to bad rubbish," and glared at Lockhart over the rim of his own goblet.

Lockhart gave Snape a wink. "Still jealous of my glory, Severus? Think you could have bested the Serpent of Slytherin yourself?"

"If you and a bunch of moronic gingers could overcome the thing, I don't see how it could have been a challenge to any competent wizard, Lockhart," Snape snarled.

The scruffy stranger cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Severus, but I have to disagree. A basilisk is a very dangerous creature, perhaps eclipsed only by a nundu in its threat to a wizard one on one. I have examined the corpse myself, and I must say that it has to be the largest on record. The fact that Mr. Lockhart survived with only a minor injury to his leg is nothing short of incredible."

"Hardly credible at all really," Snape muttered, but everyone else ignored him.

"Forgive me sir, but I do not have the pleasure of your acquaintance," Lockhart said, nodding to the stranger. "I would rise and offer to shake your hand, but alas; I cannot."

"Excuse my rudeness, this is Remus Lupin. He's here to take over as our next Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," Dumbledore explained.

"A pleasure," Lockhart said, smiling amiably. "You've got quite a challenge before you. The students here are nothing if not energetic."

Lupin flushed, and McGonagall suppressed a wicked grin. "I ah, I am aware of the various...antics...that members of the student body get up to, Mr. Lockhart. I am, after all, a Hogwarts alumni myself."

Lockhart nodded amiably. "Class of '82 myself. I think I remember you, now. Gryffindor, right? Friends with that villain Sirius Black and the Potter boy. You were what, four years ahead of me?"

At the mention of Sirius Black, Lupin's face went blank. "Yes, I was aquainted with those gentlemen." Lupin cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I don't remember you from our school days, however. I've read your books, and while I find the accounts somewhat incredible, I must say your work here proves that any doubts I may have had were ill founded. I would love to see your lesson plans."

"I'll have one of the house elves give you a copy of my notes from my office," Lockhart said, taking a sip of whiskey and sighing as he rubbed his still sore leg. "I must confess, however, that my novels are not entirely accurate accounts."

Lupin's eyebrows shot up as most of the rest of the professors chuckled, having already heard this story. Snape, for his part, continued to sulk in the corner. Lockhart was not fond of Snape: his dour expression and lack of good hygiene betrayed his lack of character in the immaculately groomed Lockhart's opinion.

"You see, I write my books not to convey facts, but to tell a good yarn," Lockhart confided. "I've even had to play around with the timeline of events to maintain narrative focus on an individual hunt. Take, for example, Wanderings with Werewolves. The real account of how that particular battle ended was, necessarily, rather gruesome. Would that the homorphus charm did work as I described! It would be a cure for lycanthropy, and save the poor souls afflicted with the disease a great deal of pain."

Lupin flinched at the mention of werewolves, but he nodded. "Yes, I had noticed that. I take it you had to put the poor man down?"

Lockhart nodded sadly. "The poor fool begged me to do it, actually. Initially I resisted, but the book is true in the regard that he was threatening a poor young girl at the time of our final confrontation. It's nearly impossible to subdue a werewolf in a short amount of time without using lethal force. Alas, I was forced to slay him. No wrestling, of course, though I did hit him with a stout branch to drive him away from the girl. I find the ending where he is driven off, confronted with his humanity, to be much more satisfying. The grim reality of the tale is something we could all do without."

"That's a small mercy I am sure his soul is grateful for," Dumbledore said kindly.

Lupin hesitated, then nodded.

Grinning, Lockhart raised his glass. "But let us not dwell on unhappy hunts. My next adventure awaits me, and tonight, I wish to celebrate with you all. For at least in our tale, everyone did go home safely! To happy endings!"

"To happy endings!" everyone cheered, raising their glasses on high.

The next morning, Lockhart put on his traveling cloak, and bid Hogwarts farwell once more.

"Do write to me concerning your exploits in South America," Lupin said, shaking Lockhart's hand at the castle gate. "I'm sure the students will be interested to hear how you deal with those chupacabras."

"Of course, of course! And let me know how the children are coming along," Lockhart said. "I've an especial interest in the Weasleys. They're going to great things, I tell you."

Lupin agreed, and the men parted as friends. Lockhart hoisted his truck, and raised his wand arm. A moment later, the Knight Bus appeared.

"Where to sir?" the drive asked as he stowed Lockhart's traveling chest.

"Plymouth Port, my good man. I'm for the _Westfall_ and the Americas."

The long bus ride did not disturb Lockhart, who spent most of the trip writing furiously despite the jostling. While his parchment ended up somewhat ink spattered, his suit and cloak had impermeable charms and Lockhart was fastidious about keeping his skin free of unseemly blotches.

"Plymouth Port!" the drive called, and Lockhart waved his wand. Storing his pages safely away in his sea chest before grabbing his ivory raven headed cane and hobbling off the bus. He tipped the grateful drive three sickles, and tossed the bus boy and extra for helping Lockhart haul his chest onto the dock.

"One for the _Westfall_ my good fellow," Lockhart told the ticketing agent. "And someone to help me with my chest would be appreciated. Bit of a game leg, you see."

The agent nodded, turning around and yelling, "Oi, boy, get out here and help this man onto the Westfall."

A moment later, a greasy haired youth darted out and struggled with Lockhart's chest, hauling it towards the distant gangplank.

"Here child, a bit of a featherweight charm should help," Lockhart said, waving his wand and causing the chest to float gently in midair.

"Thank you, sir," the boy said, nodding gratefully as he easily tugged the chest towards the ship. He paused, looking up with Lockhart and squinting slightly. "Say, I think I've seen you before."

"I should hope so! For it is none other than I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Monster Hunter Extraordinaire, who stands before you." Lockhart struck a bit of a pose, hiding the wince as he put a bit too much weight on his still sore leg. Damned basilisk venom. Lockhart's hand went to the small vial inside his jacket, stroking it slightly. Fawkes the Phoenix had been kind enough to fill the vial with tears before Lockhart had departed. A bezoar would have been expensive to obtain, and phoenix tears were even better against poisons and venoms than that little cure all.

"Wow! I heard you was at Hogwarts this year, fought a basilisk with the Girl-Who-Fought-Monsters herself!" The boy grinned wickedly and lowered his voice. "Is it true she managed to stun you?"

"Ha! Indeed, rarely have I been overcome by one so young. You see, it was none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort himself who mislead young Miss Granger. He had tricked her and her relatives the Weasleys into believing that it was I who controlled the basilisk by means of possessing their friend, the lovely Ms. Luna Lovegood. They confronted me in the girls lavatory, you see….

 _Excerpt from_ _ **Banishing the Basilisk**_

I had been on the track of the monster for some time. While it had only succeeded in petrifying a cat and two students, I suspected a basilisk the moment that Hagrid's roosters began to mysteriously turn up dead. True, it could have been unrelated, but in my long experience as a gentleman adventurer, I have learned that there is no such thing as a coincidence.

Therefor, I procured additional roosters, and tracked the beast's path through the castle. Based upon the location of its strikes, I deduced that it was using the castles plumbing to attack the poor, unfortunate youths and felines. As such, I investigated the various toilets for the possibility of an opening into the beast's lair, the Chamber of Secrets. I came across the ghost of a young girl named Moaning Myrtle, who confirmed my suspicion: she had been killed by the stare of a great beast.

Now, of course there are other creatures that can kill with a look, the gorgon and cockatrice being the most famous, but as the roosters were going missing and the Chamber was associated with Salazar Slytherin, I gambled that it could be nothing less than a great basilisk, and prepared to strike.

Alas, I was too slow. The Dark Lord conspired to appear to kidnap Ms. Lovegood in an attempt to lure his foes to a final confrontation on his own turf. I hurried to confront the beast, but the Weasleys found me first. The first to strike were Hermione's close companions, Ronald and Harry Weasley. They were young, but cunning. Harry, being a parselmouth himself, called forth an army of deadly vipers while Ronald let fly with a barrage of spells from a tactically advantageous position. I had to hide behind a marble pillar and conjure up a shield while I formulated a plan.

You see, I knew that the Weasley's were innocent, and my students, and I did not wish to harm them. I conjured up a sleeping mist, and let it fly. The serpent's feel asleep, and so too did the first of the Weasley boys.

Not so their elder brothers, the Twin Terrors. They had come prepared for a battle, wearing some odd muggle masks on their faces that repelled my fog. They let loose with bolts of lighting, raining down thunder like Jove from on high. It was a good tactic, but I turned it against them. I transfigured an iron rod to capture the lightning, then destroyed two toilets, flooding the room.

"Give it up boys, it's no good for you to continue!" I called as water filled the room to ankle deep.

The Weasley twins growled. "No! We shall not abandon our friends!"

Once more they struck with lightning. Now, dear reader, if you are familiar with the muggle invention "electricity" you know that water is, in fact, a conductor of such a marvel. I myself am aware, for I have studied the arcane muggle sciences and mastered them in many respects. Lightning is nothing but a bolt of powerful electricity, and I am fascinated daily that muggles have managed to tame such a primal force to use for such mundane things as preparing their daily cup of tea, but I digress. The Weasley's own lightning struck my iron rod once more, which channeled the electricity down into the water, which the Weasley's themselves were standing in. I myself had levitated above the surface, and as such the current arced harmlessly below me. Not so the Twins. They were caught in their own attack, and with a cry they swooned, falling into the water.

Before I could act, two brooms shot into the washroom (Hogwarts washrooms being notoriously cavernous). Astride them were the Weasley Daughters, Hermione and Ginevra. I was caught flat footed as it were, hovering in midair, and was struck with several curses and jinxes. I hastily cast the counters, but I had already been sapped of much of my strength as I vomited up slugs and had painful boils sprout upon my normally immaculate skin.

 _(My readers will be relieved to know that this caused no permanent harm, thanks to my line of skin cleansing products, Gilderoy's Gentle Gernroot Lotion. Buy it today at your local apothecary)_

"Why do you assault me?" I cried to the heavens as more spells rained down upon my weakening shield. "We are both foes of the Dark Lord. We should be allies in this."

"Save your lies for newspapers, Lockhart!" Hermione spat in reply. "I know you've kidnapped my close friend Luna Lovegood, and we shall not rest until both you and your foul monstrosity are paid for your crimes! Your gorgon is no match for me!"

"But it is not-" my reply was cut short by another volley of blasting spells and I was forced to dive out of the way. I returned fire and manage to catch Ginevra's broom with a lucky hit. With a cry, she fell from the sky, but saved herself with well timed feather fall charm. I had no time to pay attention to the girl, for Hermione had landed and struck a duelists pose.

Winded and wounded as I was, I nonetheless raised my own wand in salute. We exchanged bows, and the the duel began.

For one so young, Hermione showed the acumen that can only come with experience, and immediately conjured a shield and dodged out of the way even as she fired off a series of tricky jinxes and hexes, many of which I myself had taught her.

"You taught me well, Professor Lockhart. When I entered into your classroom, I was but a student. Now, however, you will find that I am the master, and you but the learner."

I dodged out of the way of Hermione's spells, splashing in the water as I did so.

"I taught you well, my young apprentice. However, you still have much to learn." I fired back my own barrage of spells, and Hermione's shield shattered under the blows. She dodged behind a stall door, fired off another spell, and then went silent.

I waded forward, keeping my shield raised. I looked into the stall, finding Hermione in a defensive stance.

"Surrender, young lady. I have you cornered."

"No," a voice behind me said. "It is we who have cornered you."

I spun and fired off a stunning spell, taking Ginevra in the chest. Unfortunately, I had turned my back upon my most dangerous foe. There was a loud cry and the water vaporized as my shield shattered, and I knew no more for a time.

Some while later, I jerked back to consciousness in a dimly lit cave, overgrown with moss and lichen. Above me hovered the pale face of Harry Weasley.

"Professor, Professor we were wrong! It wasn't you who kidnapped Ginny and stunned our brother Percy and his girlfriend! It was Lord Voldemort all along!"

I groaned and sat up, finding Hermione being tended to by Ginevra and Ron, having already been wounded in her battle against the Dark Lord and his servant. She struggled up, blinking away blood. "A basilisk! That fool has a basilisk, and is controlling Luna with some sort of dark artefact. Please, Professor. I know we just fought, but Luna is our friend. You must save her."

I came to my trembling legs, and took a deep breath. Calming myself, I tore a strip of fabric from my cape and tied it about Harry's eyes, then did the same for myself.

"What is this for?" Harry asked, adjusting the blindfold.

"As a parselmouth, you must accompany me and tell me what serpent says," I told the boy. "I will battle the beast, but I would parlay with it first."

Together, we made our way blindly forward through the cavern, until I heard a low hissing before us.

"Child of the Raven, why have you come here," Harry translated for me.

"I seek one of my own," I replied. "The young girl you have taken. Your lord has no right to her: she must be returned."

The serpent laughed. "My lord required the body of the poor girl, and she gives it willingly! You have no claim on her, fool. Depart, lest you face my wrath! I am the Supreme Danger Noodle, the Serpent of Slytherin! None may face my wrath and live."

I raised my wand and gritted my teeth. "You shall not have her. If we must fight, so be it!"

The serpent let out a roar, and I shoved Harry backwards as I conjured a wall of flame. The basilisk hissed in surprise, but Harry continued to translate for me.

"Flame? You think a little fire will stop me, little man? I am Supreme!"

I could hear the serpent racing forward, and used a gust of wind to launch myself down the passage, away from the students and towards the serpent. However, in my blindness I misaimed, and I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I groaned, feeling the venom course through my veins: I did not have much time.

Hurriedly, I transfigured some nearby moss into swords, and hurled then back at the basilisk with a banishing charm. The serpent shrieked in agony, and I tumbled to the ground from my flight through the air. I conjured a wall of smoke, sweating as I did so and grunting in agony.

"Foolish landwalker, now I shall feast upon your bones!"

"Not today," I muttered.

I quickly transfigured the nearby stone into a body much like mine, except at its heart was a vial of dragonfire. I then rolled into a nearby hollow, and waited, trying to slow the course of the venom in my veins by reducing my heart rate via the meditative techniques I learned while hunting a yeti in Nepal _(you can read about this in my novel, Year With a Yeti)._ I heard the serpent's hiss of triumph as it ate me, and smiled.

"You lose," I called.

"What-" there was a massive blast of heat and pressure, and I flinched as gore rained down on me. A moment later, Harry was at my side. He pulled the fang from my leg, weeping as he did so.

"Bezoar, left pocket," I wheezed.

Harry hastily retrieved it and brought the panacea to my lips. I swallowed, and sighed as the venom left my body.

"Help me up," I ordered, and Harry lifted me to my feet. I took the blindfold from my eyes, and retrieved the basilisk fang. "Come, our work here is not done."

Together, we stumbled forward, reaching a large chamber with an eerie green glow and a lake at the center. Above the waters, hanging suspended in midair was none other than Luna Lovegood.

"Well, I see that you have made it past my basilisk," Luna sneered in a voice far too deep for a delicate young lady such as herself. "A pity. I was fond of Danger Noodle. Still, I am not surprised. Even she would have been no match for the likes of the Legendary Gilderoy Lockhart."

"I was a fool for not returning to England to put a stop to you before, Voldemort!" I called. "This time, I will make no such mistake."

Voldemort laughed, rolling Luna's eyes back in her head. "Ha! You are too late, little man. Already I have begun the ritual to create a new body. See, already it forms as I drain the essence from this pathetic girls shell."

"No!" Harry cried. "No, it can't be!"

But it could. Before the lake a body was coalescing, mystical symbols floating in the air around it. I passed Harry the basilisk fang. "Stab the body, Harry. Right in the middle. There has to be some anchor to hold the Dark Lord here."

Harry nodded and hurried forward, standing over the body. He took a deep breath, then plunged the fang into the chest cavity.

"NooooOO!" Luna shrieked, as the body vanished and a book appeared. Harry stabbed the book again, driving the fang deep within as blood like ink erupted from it.

An eerie wailing filled the air, as Luna fell into the lake, and Harry was flung back by a burst of magic as a serpent like specter rose out of the diary.

"Fools! You have destroyed the vessel, but I shall return! Nothing can stop Lord Voldemort, not even death!" With that, the serpent flew into the ceiling and vanished.

For his party, Harry scrambled forward and hurled himself into the lake, disappearing beneath its dark surface. For my part, I crawled forward, trying to discern what had happened. Time passed, and I feared for both children. Just as I was losing all hope, Harry resurfaced, carrying the unconscious body of Luna. He laid her out on the shore, and gave her the Kiss of Life. With a gasp, Luna's eyes fluttered open.

"Harry? You saved me!"

"I couldn't have done it without Professor Lockhart," Harry said, holding Luna's hands between his own. "He's an extraordinary monster hunter."

 _End excerpt._

On the deck of the ship, the boy's eyes were wide as he stared up at Lockhart. "Is that all true? Did you really defeat a basilisk blindfolded and help destroy part of Lord Voldemort?"

"Every word of it," Lockhart said seriously. "Though perhaps I did take a bit of creative liberty with the small details."

"Wow, I'd best be getting back then," the boy said, hopping off the trunk. He turned, and gasped.

As they had been talking, the Westfall has set sail, and Plymouth was now a distant blot on the horizon.

"No! I can't… I'm not supposed to go to America! I have to get home to my mum!"

Lockhart clapped the lad on the shoulder. "Never fear, Lockhart is here! We'll get you home safe eventually lad. After a suitably epic adventure, of course. Ever hunted a chupacabra?"

The boy suddenly brightened. "No, but that would be famous. Can I really come with you?"

Lockhart nodded and grinned. "Of course! I've always wanted a spunky young sidekick. What was your name, lad?"

"Millhouse sir, Millhouse Manastorm."

Lockhart knelt down and put his arm around Millhouse's shoulders, using his other hand to point towards the distant horizon. "Well Millhouse my land, one day you'll tell your grandchildren that you went on an adventure with the famous Gilderoy Lockhart, and that you too are a Monster Hunter Extraordinaire!"

 _Teddy Lupin's Author's Note:_

 _I have it on good authority from Hermione and the other Weasleys that the confrontation in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was far less epic and destructive than what was presented here. However, I have chosen to simply present the tale as Lockhart himself put it forth, somewhat abridged so that it would fit within my own novel. Banishing the Basilisk is a highly entertaining read, and one of the bedtime stories I most treasured as a child. While I cannot swear as to its veracity, it's standing as a work of fiction is indisputable: it is one of the very best._

 _I would note that to this day, Milhouse's mother maintains that he was kidnapped. For his part, Milhouse claims to have gone willingly. I will leave it up to my readers to decide which is the true tale._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Westfall**

Like most wizarding ocean going vessels, the Westfall was powered by great steam turbines. Unlike the muggle version of such things however, the Westfall used steam produced by salamanders locked away in kennels in the hold. While they did still transport a large quantity of coal, this was of course, to feed the salamanders.

For his part, Millhouse was fascinated by the creatures, and spent a good deal of his time below decks helping the crew feed the fire lizards.

"You've quite an affinity for the creatures," Lockhart observed when he came down to check on his young protege. "They're eating right out of your fingers."

"Always had a thing for fire," Millhouse said, petting a salamander with an ungloved hand. He held up two fingers and snapped, conjuring a small flame and grinning at Lockhart. "Mum says my dad was a djinn you know. Don't much care for the sea or the water, but we lived on the port and jobs at the dock were all I could find."

"Your mother works at the docks?" Lockhart inquired.

Millhouse shrugged. "Works the docks more like, she's a who-"

"That is no way to speak of one's mother," Lockhart snapped, cuffing Millhouse upside the back of the head. "Use a proper euphemism, such as a working lady, scarlet woman, or a _fille de joie_."

Millhouse scrunched up his face. "Don't those all just mean she's a slag?" That earned him another smack upside the back of his head. "Ow! Ugh, alright! She's...um, a working lady. Anyway, don't have my wand yet, I'm only 9, but I can make a flame easy enough. I can make wind too, but it smells pretty foul and it only comes from-" he dodged away, grinning impudently up at Lockhart, who was frowning.

"Bodily functions are also something a gentleman adventurer does not refer to in polite conversation."

"Yeah, but it's just me and you, and I ain't polite."

"Ah, but I am, and you must endeavor to become so."

Just then, a large figure loomed in the salamander room hatch, and Lockhart spun, his wrist flexing to bring his wand to hand as his nostrils flared. "Minotaur," he breathed.

There was a low chuckle from the hatch, and a massive figure with two bull horns stooped and entered. He had a massive shaggy beard that hung from his jaw, which was half bovine, half human. He was dressed however in an officer's overcoat, abet a rather massive one to fit his frame. "Indeed, Mr. Lockhart, but have no fear. I am not here to devour you or your ward, merely to inform you that we are understanding of the boy's predicament, and that your offer of purchasing a ticket for him has been accepted."

Lockhart paused, then sheathed his wand. "Very well, I appreciate the message Mr…?"

"Smite. Hammer Smite, at your service Mr. Lockhart," the minotaur said, extending a massive hand. Lockhart noticed that the minotaur wore a red bandana on the right bicep. "First mate of the Westfall."

Lockhart took the hand, his usual grin returning. "Ah, a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Smite."

"Likewise. Captain Greenskin invites you to dine with us this evening at the captain's table. Your ward is welcome to eat with our cabin boys." With that, Mr. Smite bowed to Lockhart and departed once more.

"Wow, a real minotaur," Millhouse said, his expression slightly awestruck. "Are you gonna slay him?"

"What? Of course not. He's not done anything wrong so far as I know, and it's not a crime for a minotaur to merely exist. I save the hunting for those more deserving of such attentions."

"Oh." Millhouse looked slightly crestfallen, but then brightened. "Hey, that means I don't have to worry about you slaying me just because I'm half djinn right?"

That evening, Lockhart dressed in his finest formal robes; black velvet with golden buttons, and picked out his most dashing black bowler hat and black cloak with a scarlet liner. He made sure to wax his mustache, and put on just a bit of makeup to enhance his appearance.

"Couldn't you do all that with a wand? It's what my mum does for johns," Millhouse asked.

"Ah, but how could I then market my entire line of beauty products with the assurance that I have personally vouched for?" Lockhart asked.

That stumped Millhouse, who was hungry anyway and figured they should hurry to dinner.

The captain's dining room was a well appointed chamber at the bow of the ship, with faerie lamps filling the room with warm, bright light."

"Ah, Mister Lockhart, a pleasure to meet ya," Captain Greenskin said, standing on top of a chair to shake Lockhart's hand at eye level. The man was tall for a goblin, with a long pointed nose and small, greedy eyes. His skin was, in fact, as green as a lime's skin, though his teeth were yellowing and several had been replaced with golden fakes. He had removed his hat, but still had a red neckerchief on his head, probably to hide his bald pate. "Glad yous could be joining us for dinner. You've met my first mate, Mr. Smite of course. And here is my other guest, Mr. Steinmetz."

"Eet es goot to meet you, meester Lockhart," the stranger said, bowing slightly to Lockhart but not offering his hand. Steinmetz was dressed in a large, vaguely military jacket, with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose. A scarlet cravat could be seen poking out of his jacket, which Lockhart noted was made oddly enough of simple cotton. The man nodded to a young girl peering through a hatch at the other side of the mess. "Mine daughter, Vanessa. She ees about your vards age, I am thinking. Pleese, vhy do not zee children play vile vee adults talk, yes?"

"Go along Millhouse, and do remember our talks, please," Lockhart said.

Millhouse nodded, going to wipe his nose on his sleeve, then stopping himself and snorting instead. "Yeah, Mr. Lockhart. I'll be a right gentleman I will."

Lockhart sighed, shaking his head. "The lad's heart is in the right place, but I'm afraid he has no manners. His upbringing was a bit lacking, sadly."

"Hah! He'll fit right in here then," Mr. Smite said, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Sailor's are not well known for their manners, Mr. Lockhart."

"'Ey, I'm a well mannered goblin, thankyouverymuch," the Captain said, turning his head and spitting into a bucket.

Steinmetz smiled, pushing his spectacles back up his nose. "Eet vill be goot to haf somevone who is a gentleman to sup with, I think."

They all sat at the table, and an odd looking fellow, half fish, half man, waddled up out of the kitchen with a chefs hat perched atop his head. "Mrrggglle."

"Cookie here says he's got albacore tuna on a bed of jasmine rice, with a side of fresh greens," Captain Greenskin translated.

"Mrrach. Mrrrgllle."

"And for dessert, a nice chocolate volcano cake served, eh, a lah mod? Wit ice cream."

"Mrrrgggle. Mrrah. Mrr."

"But to start us off he's got either a nice red wine or some sherry, along with fresh baked bread and butter. Sound good to yous?"

The party agreed, and Lockhart requested the sherry.

"Tell me Mr. Steinmetz, what is it you do?" Lockhart inquired once the drinks had been poured.

Steinmetz hesitated, and Smite and Greenskin exchanged a nervous look.

"I am a...businessman," Steinmetz answered after a moment, looking into his glass. "Once, I vas very successful. My family...we were...stonemasons. Steinmetz, you see. However, recently I haf run into...troubles. Some customers, they haf cheated me out of my pay, you see. A problem, I am sure you would agree, meester Lockhart."

"Ah, yes, I once had a publisher try to cheat me out of my earnings," Lockhart said, sipping his sherry. "Terrible shame, that."

"Ah. Deed you feel anger at that, Meester Lockhart?" Steinmetz inquired.

"Oh, no, of course not. I merely mentioned that I was good friends with a rather vicious Hungarian witch who had a most excellent hex for removing certain delicate body parts, shall we say, and the matter was quickly resolved."

Smite roared with laughter at that, and Steinmetz and Greenskin exchanged large grins.

"Good to hear, Mister Lockhart," Greenskin said. "Personally, I can't stand people who stiff ya. They're just the worst sort of people, in my humble opinion."

The rest of the dinner passed away amicably enough, but Lockhart kept an eye on his host and the other guest. Something felt off, but Lockhart kept his peace, as the company was enjoyable enough and his hoste very polite. After brandy and cigars, Lockhart retrieved Millhouse and bid his hosts goodnight.

"Bit weird that bird," Millhouse commented back at their cabin. "Had this weird accent."

"Oh?" Lockhart asked, his ears perking up.

"Yeah, I mean, Steinmetz is a German name and all, and she did sound a bit like a Jerry, but she kept slippin' up like."

Lockhart frowned. "What sort of accent did you think she had?"

"I dunno. Maybe she was a Yank. I mean, her mum could be an American or something right? That would explain it."

"Hmm," Lockhart grunted, reaching into his sea chest and rummaging for a bit. "Blast. Hardly any newspapers that cover events in America in here. If I could just remember…"

"Remember what? I've got a pretty good memory myself," Millhouse said, puffing out his chest.

"Well, do you remember the scandal back when MACUSA had their headquarters rebuilt a few years back?" Lockhart said, giving up the search and retiring to his bed.

"Not really, not something who- I mean, working ladies gossip about you know," Millhouse said.

"Stonemasons," Lockhart muttered. He shook his head. "Ah well, none of our concern. Off to bed with you, we'll be up early I suspect."

The next day, Lockhart took Millhouse aside. "Why don't you poke about in the lower decks a bit? Something's tickling the back of my mind, but I just can't remember it. Like my memory's been tampered with. Ah! If I could just remember...anyway, keep an eye out for anything odd, will you?"

"You got it boss," Millhouse said, then scampered off to go play with the salamanders.

For his part, Lockhart visited the ship's small library and did a bit of reading. He was just finishing up a fruitless search of the old newspapers when he spied a small red volume tucked between two much larger books. Intrigued, Lockhart pulled it out.

"Brotherhood in Blood and Stone," he read. "Intruiging."

The volume was small, a treatise on workers rights. It was a rambling rant that talked about how the government exploited workers at the behest of oligarchs that sought to ruin the common man. At the end of the book was drawing of a man wearing a bandana over his face, raising a wand definitely towards the sky.

"Rise in defiance of the law, my brothers. Rise as the Defias Brotherhood," Lockhart read. "Defias...that rings a bell."

He searched for more books, but aside from one book by Edwin Vancleef on stonemasonry that proved unbearably boring, Lockhart found nothing of interest. Still, he lingered over the title page, feeling as though he should know the name. He gave it up, and put the book back, and returned to his cabin. He was nearly done with the first draft of Banishing the Basilisk, and his publisher was hungry for an adventure that had taken place at Hogwarts.

However, Millhouse was waiting for Lockhart, pacing excitedly. "Boss, boss you are not going to believe this," Millhouse said, hurrying to shut the door behind Lockhart. "Down below, there are loads, and I mean loads, of crates marked 'dangerous.' I asked what was in them and the crew told me to shove off, but I managed to peek inside a knot hole and you won't believe what I saw."

"Oh?" Lockhart asked, seating himself at the desk with a wince.

"Explosives! There's a ton of explosives down in the hold boss!"

"Explosives? Yes, yes, I heard you, no need to repeat yourself...Hmm. We should inquire about this with the crew."

However, the crew proved extraordinarily closed mouth on the nature of their cargo.

"That's somethin' yer gonna wanna discuss with the officers, see," one of the hands growled. He wiped his forehead with a scarlet handkerchief, then tied it back around his face as he turned back to shoveling coal for the salamanders.

"Shove off mate, this is brotherhood business, like. Ain't none o' yer concern," another sailor called from the other side of the hold.

"Shut up you idiot!" the first man snarled. "They ain't one o' us, so they don't need to know 'bout any of that, see?"

A sudden realization struck Lockhart, and he grabbed Millhouse by his shirt and dragged him from the ship's hold.

"Ow! Why are you-"

"Be silent," Lockhart hissed. "We are in grave danger."

Milhouse's eyes widened, and he glanced around furiously. "What? Why?"

"I believe that this ship is in control of the Defias Brotherhood," Lockhart said grimly, peering down the corridor to make sure they are alone. "And that those explosives are intended to destroy the Magical Congress of the United States."

Millhouse gasped. "What? Why?"

Lockhart paused, and gave him an incredulous expression. "I really must expand your vocabulary. That's the second time you've said that. You could have said, 'whatever for,' or even the crass 'how come.' Needlessly repeating your words makes you somewhat boring to listen to."

"Are you having one on me? You just said we're in danger, and you're lecturing me on grammar?"

"It's very important. As my ward, it is my duty to see to your education. Have any formal schooling at all?"

Millhouse stopped in his tracks and folded his arms. "I'm not talking about this while-"

Grabbing the boy's arm, Lockhart steered him towards the hatch. "As reluctant as you are to discuss your education, I find it highly- ah, Mr. Smite, I was just looking for you. Did you know, young Millhouse believes that your hold is full of explosives?"

"Really?" the first mate said, flexing his massive arms and meeting Lockhart's eyes. "And what do you think, Mr. Lockhart?"

"Well, I was really wondering if you had any extras. You see, in my line of work, one can never have too many explosives. I'm planning on taking a boat from New York down to Veracruz where we'll be hunting chupacabras. A bit of extra firepower would not go amiss."

Smite relaxed slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh. Well, that's a question for the owner of the explosives. We're just transporting them, you see. For a client stateside. MACUSA, if you'd believe that."

"Oh, I quite believe it. Americans are nothing if not obsessed with explosions," Lockhart said easily. "Ah well, too bad. Come, Millhouse, we'll have to see about obtaining some goblin made explosives in New York. You know, I have to say, the goblins there have perhaps the best array of monster hunting weapons I have ever seen. Why, back in '87 I was hunting a thunderbird, didn't ever catch it, but I needed a variety of rockets and…"

Lockhart trailed off, looking behind them to where the first mate had disappeared beyond a hatch. "And that, dear boy, is why I changed the subject. While I am concerned about your sadly lacking vocabulary, I realized this is not the best place to discuss our plans. Come, I believe we shall be fairly safe in our cabin."

Once back in their cabin, Lockhart sat on the bed, shaking his head. "Some years ago, the Dark Lord Grindelwald used an obscurus to attack MACUSA. They captured him, and placed him in a top secret holding facility within their very own halls. However, he escaped, and destroyed most of their building as he went. They had to rebuild, and they employed a guild of stonemasons to do so, headed by one Edwin Vancleef. However, it was at that same time that MACUSA became involved in the war against the Dark Lord Thedrus of the Duchy of Texas. You may knew him as the Terror of Texas, one of Grindelwald's allies. They and the government of Texas waged a long and costly war against Thedrus and his allies in Tenochtitlan. The war nearly bankrupted MACUSA, and they were forced to pay the stonemasons who had rebuilt their own headquarters a pittance of what was promised, and offer only more promises of payment later. This enraged VanCleef, who attempted to become a Dark Lord himself, and conquer MACUSA to regain what he was owed."

"However, VanCleef was defeated, and he and his followers fled. They've been gone for decades, but it seems that now they have resurfaced. I believe that the entire crew of the Westfall is in Vancleef's employ, and are heading to New York to attempt to finish what they started 20 years ago."

"That's crazy!" Millhouse gasped. "How come I've never heard of this?"

"Well, magical America is somewhat isolationist, and magical Britain even more providential. I only know because of my wide travels and battles against unsavory types the world over."

Millhouse considered this, then nodded. "So are we going to start a mutiny or something?"

"Of course not! We're sitting on a literal powder keg. We make fall in port in a mere two days time. We must wait until then, and alert the authorities."

For the next day and a half, Lockhart and Millhouse walked on eggshells, staying mostly in their cabin. Millhouse was able to claim that he'd come down with a bad case of hydrotoxicity, something that djinn-bloods suffered from in overly aquatic environments. For his part, Lockhart used the excuse that his basilisk bitten leg was paining him, something that was true enough, and stayed put writing his novel. While Lockhart's publisher would have appreciated his diligence, Millhouse did not.

"I didn't sign up to be cooped up in a bloody cabin all day," the boy grumbled, sitting in a corner and repeatedly snapping his fingers to summon a flame, then shaking his hand to dismiss it.

"A good deal of monster hunting is actually sitting and waiting," Lockhart informed him as waved his wand over his latest page of parchment to dry the ink. "You must stalk your prey carefully. Why, when I was hunting the Rasuwa Yeti, I once had to sit in a hide for 38 hours. I would have frozen to death if it wasn't for pepper up potions. Speaking of which, once we land I should begin to teach you some of the more useful brews. Many do not require wands, and a deft hand at potions serves you well in the field."

Just then, a knock came at the door, and Millhouse jumped to his feet, his face pale.

"Is it them?" he whispered.

Lockhart rolled his eyes. "It is likely a member of the ship's crew, yes. Get the door, Millhouse."

Millhouse tentatively stepped forward, inching the door open. "Yes?"

"Mr. Steinmetz's greetings young master," a sailor said, sticking his head in the room. "He's inquiring if you and Mister Lockhart are feeling up to joining him and young Miss Vanessa in the private dining room for tea today."

"Sure," Millhouse blurted before Lockhart could say anything. "Sounds lovely."

"Right, I'll just be letting him knew then," the sailor said, and departed.

Millhouse slammed the door, turning around with a horrified expression. "Oh sweet Merlin, what have I done?"

"Relax, it's just tea. Besides, Mr. Steinmetz isn't associated with the Defias. He's just another passenger."

"Oh, right," Millhouse said, sighing with relief. "Guess I'd best get ready then."

"Tea is not for several hours, young man. But I suppose now would be a good time to practice your manners if you're to be taking tea with a young lady."

Millhouse groaned.

"Ah, Meester Lockhart. A pleasure to see you again," Steinmetz said, rising as Lockhart and Millhouse entered the dining salon. Vanessa was reading in a corner, but looked up and smiled when Millhouse entered. The room was empty save for the four of them, with two small tables set for tea.

"Remember what I told you. Don't smack your lips, sit up straight, and no breaking of wind," Lockhart said softly before patting Millhouse on the back. "Ah, Mr. Steinmetz. Good to see you again."

"Pleese, haf a seat," Steinmetz said. "Let us talk."

Once Vanessa and Millhouse were chatting away in the corner, Steinmetz poured for Lockhart. "How do you take your tea, sir?"

"Two sugars and cream," Lockhart said, accepting the cup. He sipped and smiled. "Ah, excellent. Now, what was it you wished to discuss, Mr. Steinmetz?"

"Vell, you see, I vas vondering if I could convince you to tell me more of vat hit is you is doing in America, Meester Lockhart. I haf followed your exploits for years, you see. I am something of a fan. Vanessa...she asked me, vell…" Steinmetz drew out a small box, which Lockhart recognized on sight.

"Of course, of course. I always carry a pen with me for just such an occasion." Deftly, Lockhart took out each of the books from the special collectors edition boxed set, and signed each of them. He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a copy of magical me, which he pressed on the protesting Steinmetz. "No, no, I insist. I am an educator after all, and it is good to see young people read. Young Vanessa looks like she's about the right age to go to school. Beauxbaton, or Durmstrang?"

"Homeschooled, actually," Steinmetz answered. "It is vhy she is so happy to haf young Millhouse to talk vith. I am afraid she is vith her father much ov zee time, and does no get to talk vith the people her age so much."

"Ah, tragic. I went to Hogwarts myself, of course. And you, Mr. Steinmetz?"

"Durmstrang," the man answered. "But books and school are not all of vhat I vish to talk vit you about, Meester Lockhart. You see, I vas vondering, vat do you know of zee political climate in zee territory of MACUSA?"

"Not much," Lockhart hedged. "I heard that had a bit of a dust up around the same time as the Grindlewald war."

"True. I haf heard zat zee ministery in England is, ah, a bit on the corrupt side, shall we say."

"I'm a personal friend of Minister Fudge," Lockhart said, frowning at Steinmetz. "And while he's not a perfect man, he does his best. The Ministry has some problems, to be sure, but all governments do. In the end though, I believe that it is government that separates us from the baser beasts I hunt."

Steinmetz looked slightly disappointed, but shrugged it off. "Ah, I see. So, you are not a supporter of zoes wo vould attempt to right zee wrongs governments inflict?"

"Oh, no, I support any group that would attempt to make the world a better place," Lockhart said, fixing himself another cup of tea. "But only through the proper means. Despite my reputation, I do not believe that between civilized people, violence should be the first resort. Why, if I could, I believe I would attempt to talk the beasts I hunt down. You have not heard of the Frankfurt werewolf, but only because I convinced the poor girl that she would be better off getting help and taking wolfsbane. Wouldn't make for much of a story, so it was never published. Still, I wish all my hunts ended without bloodshed. I do what I do because it needs doing, not because I relish the spilling of blood."

"And for zee glory?"

"I am a bit of a glory hound, I confess, but I believe that there is equal glory in peaceful resolutions, if not more so."

"Good, good. I suppose zee vorld needs men like you, Meester Lockhart."

The rest of the tea passed easily enough, until Vanessa came over and whispered in her father's ear.

"Excuse us, my daughter has, ah, female problems," Steinmetz said, standing from the table. "Pleese, enjoy zee rest of your tea."

No sooner had Steinmetz and his daughter left than Millhouse slid into the sea opposite of Lockhart and stuffed a sandwich in his mouth.

"'Oont ery oss, mhpmful."

Lockhart frowned sternly, and Millhouse blushed. Chewing quickly, Millhouse swallowed and said. "Don't worry boss, I told her to be careful. That there were bad sorts on the ship and she needed to get out of town."

"Millhouse, that was foolish. Even though I believe Vanessa is nothing but a charming young lady, if she talks in front of the crew, she could be hurt. We don't want the fact that this ship is full of rebels getting out."

"Oh, don't worry, 'Meester Lockhart,' that isn't a concern."

Lockhart spun to see Steinmetz striding back into the room, his wand in hand and flanked by Mr. Smite and a sailor.

"Steinmetz?" Lockhart said, flicking his wrist for his wand. It never made it into his hand before something wet hit the back of Lockhart's neck. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, struggling to breath as the slapping footfalls of the fishman cook came closer.

"Mrrgggll," the fish man grunted.

The face of Steinmetz entered Lockhart's clouding vision, and in the distance he heard the sounds of a struggle, which quickly faded.

"I had hoped you could help us, Lockhart," Steinmetz said. Except, it was all wrong. His English had switched over to a crisp American accent. "A man of your skills would have been an asset to my revolution. But alas, I should have known you'd be too hidebound to help our cause. Just another lap dog."

Lockhart blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Defying the Defias**

 _Who are you?_

 _I am Gilderoy Lockhart._

 _But who is Gilderoy Lockhart?_

The voice inside of Lockhart's head roared the question over and over: Who is Gilderoy Lockhart? The sound became painful, until Lockhart realized it wasn't even a question, but a throbbing, pulsing pain at the back of his head. Slowly, he clawed his way back to consciousness. As his head stopped spinning, Lockhart opened his eyes and stifled a groan. His head was pounding, and the back of his neck felt as though it had been dipped in acid.

Lockhart tried to move, but found that he was bound to a chair in a dimly lit, rather hot room. Boxes were piled all around, and after a moment Lockhart realized they were the boxes of explosives that filled the hold of the Westfall. Taking a moment to assess the situation, Lockhart realized that the ship was only bobbing up and down gently, and his blood ran cold as he realized they must be in port.

"Mr. Lockhart, Mr. Lockhart, are you awake?" Millhouse hissed from behind Lockhart.

"I am, Millhouse. I take it we're trapped in the ship's hold?" Lockhart whispered.

"Yeah, there's guys just outside. They've started wearing those red hankies of theirs around their faces. I think you're right sir, they're going to use these explosives to try to blow up the Yanks!"

"Damn and double damn! Without my wand or weapons, I have no way to escape from here." Lockhart struggled a bit, trying to losen the ropes binding him, but succeeding in only rubbing his wrists raw.

"Well, I might be able to get us out," Millhouse said, shifting slightly behind Lockhart.

"Can you untie the ropes binding you?" Lockhart asked.

"Well, something like that sir. Hold on a moment."

Lockhart waited, and after a few seconds, smelled the acrid scent of brine encrusted ropes burning. He turned his head and tried to see, then stifled a yelp as the skin on the back of his hand was scorched.

"Sorry sir, just a moment...there!"

The heat on Lockhart's hands increased, but he felt the ropes loosen. Quickly Lockhart stood, rapidly throwing off the burning ropes from his arms. He looked to Millhouse, whose hand were glowing like coals.

"A neat trick, that," Lockhart admitted. "But we've little time. Come, we'll have to find something to defend ourselves with."

However, aside from the boxes of explosives, there was little in the hold of the Westfall that could be used as a weapon. Lockhart improvised a staff for himself using a broomstick, and gave Millhouse a hefty wrench to use.

"Is this really going to help us?" Millhouse asked, eyeing the wrench with distaste.

"Well, unless you can also throw fireballs it's probably the best we can do," Lockhart answered. "Now hush, we've got to get out of here and-"

Just then, the hatch to the hold opened, and a goblin walked in, his face covered with a red mask. He let out a yell at spying the two escapes, but Lockhart sprang forward and slammed his broomstick into the goblins head, knocking him cold. However, Millhouse did indeed try to throw a fireball, which resulted in a pile of coal catching on fire.

"Ahh!" Millhouse yelled, hurrying over and trying to stomp the fire out. Instead of quenching the blaze though, he only managed to scattered the smocking coal, which began to smolder next to the boxes of explosives.

"No time for that now," Lockhart said, grabbing his young ward by the shirt collar and hauling him away. "We've got to get off this ship!"

They ran through the corridor, but before they got far several heads poked out, and there were shouts of further alarm. Wands were drawn and spells fired toward Lockhart, who dropped flat onto the ground to dodge them, then rolled into a side passage where he used his broomstick to knock one of the sailors onto the ground. He punched the man twice, then grabbed his now unconscious foes wand.

"Now they will rue the day they attempted to oppose Gilderoy Lockhart!" Conjuring a shield, Lockhart spun his broomstick once, then stepped back out and banished it towards another sailor. The stick slammed into the mans chest, driving the air out of his lungs and breaking several ribs. With a groan, the sailor slumped over, and Milhouse ran up and grabbed his wand as Lockhart began to fire off more spells towards the other sailors.

"Always wanted one of these! Stupidfy!" Millhouse frowned at the wand, which had done nothing but spurt out a greenish gas. "Damn, looks like it doesn't work. Oh well." Millhouse dropped the wand, then flexed his fingers as his eyes began to glow like coals. "I'm gonna light you up, sweet cheeks!"

The young boy tossed small balls of flame towards their foes, which caused the sailors to yelp and conjure up shields as their clothes began to smoke. However, Lockhart quickly hit hte sailors with a wave of ice, freezing them to the floor, then used a blasting charm to shatter it and send razor shards through the group, felling them all.

"Is that it?" Millhouse panted, looking around. "How do we get out?"

"This way," Lockhart said, pointing and hurrying down the passage. They got no further then ten steps when the massive form of Mr. Smite blocked their passage.

The first mate took one look at the freed Lockhart, then drew a massive hammer from behind his back. "We're under attack! Avast ye swabs, repel the invaders!"

Lockhart tried to use his wand to blast the minotaur, but the spell was absorbed by Smite's magic resistant hide, and the first mate slammed his hammer into Lockhart's arm, causing him to drop the wand which was then crushed by Smite's hooves.

Lockhart dodged away, cradling his now broken arm as the first mate attempted to crush him beneath his mighty hammer.

"I knew we should have killed you," Smite snarled, lowering his head and charging forward. "But Vancleef wanted you alive."

"Ole!" Lockhart cried, managing to slide underneath Smite's charge. He turned and kicked at the minotaur, sending him sprawling before he managed to trample Millhouse.

"Eat flame!" Millhouse cried, tossing a few embers onto Smite and setting his clothes aflame.

The first mate bellowed in rage, and Millhouse shrieked and ran over him after Lockhart, who grabbed Millhouse and stepped through the hatch onto the deck, slamming it shut just as Smite barrled after them.

"That won't hold him for long," Lockhart proclaimed. "Come, we must get to my chambers so we can escape."

They hurried across the deck to their quarters, and Millhouse looked up, gasping.

"We're in New York already! Mr. Lockhart, what are we going to do!"

"Get to the authorities straight away, and have them end this madness," Lockhart answered as they ran up to the cabin. He used his unbroken arm to jiggle the lock, then swore when it wouldn't open. "Blast, we have to get inside!"

"Oi, you, the passengers were told to disembark an hour ago, what are you-"

The sailor who had been accosting Lockhart shouted and drew his wand when he realized who it was, only for Millhouse to light his clothes on fire. While the man was panicking, Lockhart jumped over and punched him with his free hand, causing the man to topple. Lockhart siezed the wand, then hurried over and unlocked the door.

"What do we need?" Millhouse asked, looking around the room in a slight panic.

"My notes for my latest novel!" Lockhart proclaimed, handing the boy a satchel containing a number of pages filled with neat script. He dug in his trunk, pulling out several potions and downing them, then tapping his broken arm with the stolen wand. Flexing the repaired limb, Lockhart grabbed his sword and strapped it on. "Ah, much better. Now, quickly, we must flee!"

The stepped out of their quarters, but they had take no more than a step when a bright light illuminated them from the conning tower.

"Ah, Mister Lockhart. So good of you to join us, on this, the eve of our triumph," a loud, clear voice called from behind the bright light.

Shielding his eyes with his hand, Lockhart blinked as he tried to identify the speaker. "Steinmetz? Is that you? Or should I say Mr. VanCleef?"

There was a booming laugh. "Ah, so you figured it out, did you? Yes, I am Edwin Vancleef. I have returned, to punish MACUSA for the crimes they have committed against myself, and my men. We built their pretty new headquarters, and now we'll destroy it!"

There were shouts of agreement, and Lockhart gripped his sword with one hand while keeping Millhouse behind him with the other.

"What are we going to do, sir?" Millhouse whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "We're surrounded."

"Never fear, lad. I'm Gilderoy Lockhart. Something always happens." Lockhart stepped forward, drawing his sword and pointing it in the direction of VanCleef's voice. "VanCleef, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, have come to prevent you from destroying MACUSA!"

There was silence for a long moment, then VanCleef began to chuckle as Lockhart sweated under the light. Before long he was roaring with laughter, along with all the crew.

"And just how, exactly, do you plan on stoping us, you fool?" VanCleef demanded.

"I already have. Before I escaped the hold, my young ward and I set a fire. Soon, this entire ship will be destroyed, and sunk. You must all evacuate at once!"

There were shouts of alarm, but VanCleef's voice cut through them. "A likely story. You'd never risk yourself, Lockhart. You're a glory hound, not a martyr. This is just a ploy."

"No ploy, VanCleef. Evacuate now, or face your own doom!"

Vancleef laughed. "Then I will face my doom, and yours as well!"

At his words, there was a roar and a flash of flame, and the rear of the ship exploded, sending sailors flying through the air, and causing the ship to heel and list as it began to sink. More, smaller explosions followed, and there were cries of pain and panic as smoke and flame filled the air. Lockhart had to grab ahold of the railing, and Millhouse clung to him as the ship was rocked by more explosions and rapidly began to sink.

"As I said, something always happens," Lockhart said, grabbing Millhouse around the waist and hauling him towards a lifeboat. "Never fear, young Millhouse. Yet again, we have saved the day!"

"LOCKHART!"

Lockhart spun about, dropping Millhouse and drawing sword and wand just in time. VanCleef, his eyes filled with murderous rage, charged forward, swinging twin blades that crackled with arcane power. "NONE MAY CHALLENGE THE BROTHERHOOD!"

Lockhart met Vancleef's assault with a glowing disk of light on his off hand, parrying with his sword. He then span away, blasting the deck with ice and trying to get away.

"Lap dogs, all of you!" Vancleef growled, skidding over the ice as the ship tilted wildly and crashing into Lockhart yet again.

"Give it up, VanCleef!" Lockhart snarled, dodging aside and trusting the point of his sword at VanCleef's torso. "Your ship is sinking, your crew in tatters, and your explosives spent. This entire ship will sink, and you with it, fi you do not get off!"

"I would rather die a man than live a slave!" VanCleef panted, deflecting Lockhart's thrust so that it sliced only his pant leg. His other sword came around, trying to cut at Lockhart's neck.

Lockhart ducked and blasted with his wand, causing VanCleef to cry in pain as the sword arm that had been directing a fatal blow instead shattered, the sword flying away along with the hand that had clutched it. Instead of retreating though, Vancleef pressed forward, slicing at Lockhart's leg with his off hand.

Now it was Lockhart's turn to stumble back in pain, blood flowing from the deep wound in his leg. He quickly patched it before it turned fatal, but that gave VanCleef time to come in swinging again. Lockhart was pressed back, feeling weakened from the loss of blood and trying to maintain his footing on the keeling ship. It was all he could do to batter aside VanCleef's assault, but Lockhart slipped in his own blood, falling to the deck of the ship and sliding away as he scrabbled for purchase.

"Die!" VanCleef lept forward, ramming his remaining sword at the deck. Lockhart managed to roll away, but his jacket was caught by the blade, pinning him to the deck. VanCleef kicked at Lockhart, causing him to drop his own sword. Before Lockhart could bring his wand up, VanCleef stomped on his shoulder, and Lockhart cried out as he dropped the wand as well.

"Now you die!" VanCleef hissed, wrenching his sword free as he readied the coupe de gras.

"Eat flame!" Millhouse jumped forward, tossing fireballs at VanCleef, who cried out in pain as one burned his eye, turning it into a steaming mass of blood.

Stumbling backwards, Vancleef tried to stand steady, only for another explosion to caused him to fall, right into the hold of the ship. A moment later, a gout of flame erupted from the hatch, forcing Millhouse and Lockhart back.

"Time to go!" Lockhart scooped up his sword and wand, and together he and Milhouse lept over the side of the ship as the flames fully engulfed the vessel. They dived beneath the surface, holding their breaths as the heat washed over the waves, turning much of the water to steam. Once the flames receded, the two popped back up, gasping for air and bobbing in the surf.

"Millhouse!" a voice called, and the two turned to see a dingy approaching, with Vanessa on board, her face covered with ashes. Her expression was pained, and she looked back at the vessel. "Millhouse, my father, is he-"

"Dead," Millhouse gasped, paddling forward. "I'm sorry. He tried to kill us, and we knocked him back into the hold. There was another explosion, and….I'm sorry, Vanessa."

Millhouse reached out to board the small boat, only for an oar to slam into his head, stunning the boy.

"Mrrrrggllll," the ships cook growled, his fishy eyes looking about as he steered the boat away from Lockhart and the sinking Millhouse.

Vanessa began to sob, smacking at the waves with her oar. "I hate you! I hate you both! I'll kill you, Gilderoy Lockhart and Millhouse Manastorm!"

Just then, the sounds of sirens echoed over the waves, and the fishman grabbed at Vanessa, growling and pointing.

"But not today," Vanessa spat. "Good luck with the muggles. I hope they kill you." With that, Vanessa steered her dingy back into the smoke and steam from the sunken Westfall, vanishing into the mist.

A short time later, Lockhart and Millhouse were fished out of the water by a team of MACUSA aurors on brooms.

"Bloody hell, what happened?" one of them asked. "Those were magical explosives!"

"Edwin VanCleef," Lockhart gasped. "He attempted to return, destroy MACUSA's headquarters!"

"Oh bugger, this is Gilderoy Lockhart," one of the aurors groaned. "Get his wand, quick!"

Someone grabbed Lockhart's wand and then immobilized him. "You bastard! You were told to never come back here! Come on boys, back to headquarters, we'll let the chief sort this all out."

Half an hour later, Lockhart found himself locked inside of a holding room, wandless and weaponless as he waited. He was puzzled at his treatment. After all, was he not the same Gilderoy Lockhart who had defeated the Pope Lake Monster only six years ago? He should be a hero, not a pariah.

The door banged open, and a grim faced woman with steel grey hair in a tight bun and a senior aurors uniform stomped in.

"Well, we caught some survivors, and like you said, they turned out to be members of the terrorist organization known as the Defias Brotherhood. They even credit you for destroying their ship and killing Edwin VanCleef in single combat, though how you managed that I-"

"Actually, I did not kill Edwin VanCleef in single combat, nor did I claim to," Lockhart interrupted.

This gave the senior auror pause, and she eyed Lockhart suspiciously. "What, Gilderoy Lockhart, not taking credit for some brave feat someone else did? When did this happen?"

"Why madam, if you must know, my young ward, Millhouse Manastorm, was most helpful in dispatching that knave," Lockhart answered. "I was nearly defeated by the madman, despite having severed one of his arms, when Millhouse intervened with some timely fire magic, causing poor VanCleef to stumble to his own death in a massive explosion he and I had engineered earlier to destroy the Defias' assault on MACUSA. The boy is a hero. However…" Lockhart paused, a haunted look coming into his eyes. "I did not intend to kill so many of the Defias, or Edwin, as a matter of fact. I told them to evacuate their ship, that it was going to be destroyed. They laughed at me instead, to their own sorrow."

"Hmmm," the senior sat down across from Lockhart, tapping the table with one finger. After a few moments, she shrugged. "Well, I suppose we owe you some thanks, at least. The death of the members of the Defias Brotherhood is no great loss. In fact, you really have done us a favor, this time. Which is why we're not going to throw you in jail."

"Throw me in jail?" Lockhart frowned, pointing at the senior auror. "You owe me some thanks for this, to be sure, but also for my aide in the past of ridding your lands of many fearsome beasts and saving many of your citizens."

The senior auror threw back her head, howling with laughter, and infuriating Lockhart. After a minute of laughing, the woman wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tossed Lockhart his wand. "Don't press your luck. Take your ward, and leave our lands at once. We catch a hint that you're messing with anyone's memories of this event, or any other, and you'll be in prison for the rest of your life."

Still chuckling, the senior left, leaving a stunned Lockhart.

"The nerve of some people. No manners at all, these yanks," Lockhart muttered. He stood and walked out of the door, where two aurors were glaring at him. "Where is my ward, young Milhouse?"

"Infirmary," one of the aurors said, pointing down a hall. "He's all patched up and good to go. You'd best be getting along yourself. No funny business now."

Still fuming, Lockhart stomped to the infirmary, where he found Millhouse regailing a collection of mediwitches with a tale of his exploits.

"-so then, Lockhat cuts off VanCleefs arm, and says, 'surrender, knave, for once more I have bested you!' But VanCleef, he goes mad! He pretends to surrender, then stabs Lockhart and tries to kill him, see. He's got his sword over Lockhart's chest, and is going to kill him. Well, I'm still laying there, concussed from taking on that huge bloody ogre, but I says to myself, 'Millhouse, you're no great Hero like Lockhart, but you've got to do something!' So I stand up, and hit VanCleef with a fire ball. Pow! Right in the kisser. So he turns and attacks me."

"So I take up Lockhart's sword, and we're dueling on the deck of the ship. VanCleef, he's only got one arm, but he's an animal you see, coming right at me. Finally, I trip and fall because the ships rocking from all those explosives I set earlier. VanCleef comes up to stab me, but I kick his leg. So he trips and falls right into the hold. I toss in a fireball, and bang! Up he goes from those explosives. Lockhart and I jump in the water, but I was woosy from my injuries, and I pass out. Then I wake up to see you lovely ladies!"

The medi witches all cooed and petted Millhouse, calling him a "brave boy."

Lockhart cleared his throat. "A rather excellent tale, Mr. Manastorm. I apologize, ladies, but we must be going."

The medi witches frowned at Lockhart, but let him take Millhouse away from them.

"Bad timing boss, I was about to get lucky," Millhouse said as they exited the building.

Lockhart raised an eyebrow at the young boy. "Lucky? Aren't you a bit young for that sort of thing?"

Millhouse shrugged. "Got to get in my practice now! I'm a young boy, but I already know these things. Why, when my mother-"

"Do not speak so of your mother, child. It seems I must train you to be a gentleman. A gentleman thinks more of a lady than just what she can do for him, but rather, what he can do for her. Now, the first thing that you must do is be well mannered! Speak well, and treat the lady with proper respect and decorum. You must-"

Millhouse's eyes glazed over as he and Lockhart walked to the train station. Once there, Lockhart purchased tickets for Sonora, and they boarded the train finding a lonely compartment. Lockhart fell silent, gazing out the window as the other passengers boarded.

"Mister Lockhart, sir?" Millhouse asked, his voice tentative.

"Hmm? Yes?" Lockhart turned back to his ward, trying to steer his mind away from the way he'd been treated. Just what was wrong with those aurors?

"Did...did we really kill the bad guys? Vanessa...that was her dad I killed. She...she was nice."

"They were bad men," Lockhart said gently. "Evil, really. They wanted to murder and destroy. They had to be stopped. We did warn them to flee, we gave them a chance. They attacked us, and we defended ourselves. It is tragic young Vanessa is now an orphan, but I pray she will not go down the same path as her father."

Millhouse nodded, settling back in his seat. "Still, I hope next time we fight some real monsters. I'd feel much better killing something ugly and unintelligent."

Lockhart grinned and winked. "Let me tell you of the chupacabra, its habits, weaknesses, and just how ugly the horrific things are."

 _Teddy Lupin's Authors Note:_

 _A great deal of speculation must go into any retelling of Lockhart's role in the downfall of Edwin Vancleef. For one thing, Lockhart never wrote any novels about the Defias, and was notoriously unwilling to discuss his conflicts with them. Mister Manastorm is somewhat less recalcitrant, but many experts dispute his claims surrounding his and Lockhart's actions, especially since they contradict the official story given out by MACUSA. However, I have chosen to base my account largely around the stories Mister Manastorm has told, as I feel they are most in keeping with the sort of account Lockhart would have given had he chosen to do so._


End file.
